Adventure Magazine Cover, December 18, 1919 — page 133: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Blended Brigades straight hair. The paddle blade struck true, but there was more than the stun- ning strength of Clendenning’s arm be- . hind it. For Garland, seeing the rifle muzzle flicked into his new partner’s face, had breathed instantaneously a guttural. command to the canoemen and dipped his own blade with all his power. With a sudden heave the long craft was literally thrown forward from the Northmen’s paddles, all the weight of its momentum as it struck being added to Clendenning’s blow. Perry’s rifle went off a foot above Clendenning’s head and ’ Perry’s own head sagged strangely be- tween his shoulders. Clendenning, glanc- ing mechanically at the paddle smashed to fragments in his hands, could not for the moment understand; then he saw Perry’s knees bend and his body pitch into the lake. “Broke his neck, David!’ he exclaimed amazedly. ‘The lurch of the craft, you see !” “And small pity,” growled Garland, giving the paddlers the command to back water. “Here are our Slaves with the furs.” The canoe drew up sharply with a washing sound and Clendenning, throw- ing away his splintered paddle shaft, took up a spare blade as he looked over the score and more of Slave canoes. They gazed at him stoically, not interested in the struggle of the white fur-lords, in- terested only in their trade. Clendenning waved his new paddle toward the log buildings on the shore. “Other years,’ he spoke to them in their own tongue, the tongue he had learned from Laflamme, “you traded at three posts. This year there is only one trade. The post of the peddler is empty and the other two posts are as one. Come ashore and get your trade.” A shout went up from the North West brigades, the shout of victory as they es- corted the Slave canoes with their pre- cious freight of furs. A North West maid answered the call from the shore where the bunched canoes landed. “What a madman that: Perry was, father !’’ she exclaimed as Garland stepped out beside her. ‘And how well*the North “West men fought! I speak of all our Little Company men as North Westers now.” 3 hs ers > een he tibiicin ; 3 . is eo, iar - |. «to Min See aa : —— Pe Oe ey ee ee ee a ee 119 “True,” nodded Garland, “they are all North Westers now. But Perry’s mad- ness was worth while, don’t you think, Frances? Look at the treasure of beaver, otter, fox, marten and mink he fought for, not to mention other things.” Indeed, it was a treasure of fur, and the clear profit on them Clendenning computed as close to one hundred thou- sand dollars. He still sat in his big canoe making the tally while the Slaves passed, their bales from their own crafts into the crafts of the North Westers. Laflamme ashore gave out the trade bul- lets and, as fast as they were emptied, the Slaves drew up their birch-barks and made camp. HE tally completed and the last Slave ashore, Clendenning beckoned to Frances and her father to board his craft—Garland sitting forward, Frances amidships and Clendenning himself be- side her.’ At his word his eight canoe- men dipped their paddles and his six- fathom craft led off. A cheer went up from the shore and Clendenning, with Frances gazed back to glimpse a great scene—the blended brigades, the canoes locked abreast, the crews chanting in uni- son and the three posts standing grim and stern on the Athabasca shore. One post was silent, deserted. .On the other two Laflamme had hoisted the North West flag and their stockades were lined with cheering men. A wilderness city cheered them, a city of hardy Northmen, of rising Indian tepees and hiving Indian fleets. The sight, full of the indefinable magic of the North, thrilled Clendenning te his heart. He had fought and won. He caught his breath with audible exultation. at his side laughed a happy little laugh, and he looked down softly into her up- turned face, feeling for her hand under the furs. “They speed us south to Grande Por- tage and Montreal, Frances,” he breathed. “Do they not speed us south as North West man and North West maid?” Frances leaned back with him against the fur bales as one who. would rest through a long, pleasant journey. “Yes,” she whispered, half in esctasy, half in dream, “North West man and North West maid.” Frances. COPMICLOOOKS (E@)